There's Nothing Else
by droidgirl
Summary: Tony and Pepper do it! Well, after he stalks her and then inappropriately interferes with her life. X-over with The Eternals.


Tony isn't certain, but he thinks Pepper is cheating on him; sure, they're not exactly going out. And by 'not exactly', it means no, they're not, period. But that's just a bullshit technicality.

Its nothing big that tips him off; its not as if she has been slipping up at work. All his meetings are still arranged in careful slots, all his calls are screened with faultless discretion. Expenses have been filed, press releases carefully edited. His breakfast arrives every morning at seven sharp, and the coffee at his elbow is always steaming. Even his ITunes playlist is updated with the perfect amount of variety and precision every five hours when he's working in his garage.

In fact, it's not as if she's been absent from work. She's there. All the time. Perhaps more now, than before the whole Iron Man thing. It's like she wants to keep him in her sight as much as possible, which would be flattering, if Tony didn't think she was oh, seeing someone else .

It's her clothes. It was subtle at first; the black suit with a bright turqouise blouse underneath. He thought something was different about her that Tuesday morning, and after two days of speculation, realized it was the colour that threw him off. He wasn't used to a dual-toned Pepper.

And then it was her shoes. Yes, strappy heels were utterly her thing. But they were always cute, feminine type of heels, with enough sex appeal to keep him looking. One day, she walks in with this "Come Fuck Me" pair, that makes the term 'sex appeal' juvenile; the kind that could turn a man into a drooling moron with the right pair of black nylons. Which she was also wearing.

She still looked every inch the professional P.A. She was also the kind of P.A. most men wanted spread over their desk, instructing them in cool, crisp tones, the most efficient way to get the job done.

Tony was worried.

"Mr. Stark?" she sounded annoyed.

He blinks and looks away from her legs. The expression on her face could have taken the paint off his suit.

"As I was saying..."

This wouldn't do, he thinks. This wouldn't do at all.

She's _his_ assistant dammit.

Around seven in the evening as she gets ready to leave his office...home....whatever, he watches suspiciously as she spends not just two minutes, her usual, in the bathroom, but a total of four. When she emerges, her hair looks as if she had just patted it down, and her suit hangs straighter.

He feels his heckles rise.

"Getting some Pep?" he asks, trying to sound like his casual lecherous self, pretending to type on his keyboard.

"Good night Mr. Stark." she says, pointedly and drily. He can hear the smile in her voice.

"Dinner was delivered fifteen minutes ago; Peking duck from that Chinese restaurant you went with Steve Jobs last week." she adds.

"You'd leave me to dine alone over Chinese? You heartless minx." he says.

"If I had one, you'd be breaking it right now." she replied. "Besides, you're hurting Jarvis's feelings."

"You wound me sir, with your disregard." Jarvis chimed in. Damn thing. He wouldn't be surprised if he woke up one morning to find that the machine had rose up against him, and re-arranged all his furniture, shirking his butler-y duties on the sundeck with the pool boy.

"Good night Mr. Stark. Try not to call me unless the apocalypse happens. In which case, leave a message." she says as she sweeps out. She pauses at the door and gives him a look. A look that **really** makes him pissed off that she is going off for dinner with someone. Someone who was else. The look that carried a thousand emotions at once, and all of them said she'd kill him if he hurt herself.

"And let me know if you're off rescuing a damsel. Or a country. Or, well, the world."

She smiles wanly, and he returns it with equal gusto. With a few taps of her heels, she disappears upstairs.

He can't help himself, so he switches his screen to the security feed from the driveway, and watches as she climbs into her car. Lingers on the way her legs stretch as she clambers in. There's no ladylike way to get in and out of a car, he reflects.

Having lost all interest in his work, Tony trails listlessly upstairs, and follows the smell of crisp duck skin to the kitchen, where the Chinese Tacos, as he thinks of them, are laid out for him. He puts one together, sauce and everything, and takes a bite. It's every bit as good as the fresh version at the restaurant.

Inexplicably, he feels depressed.

* * *

"Pepper, did you happen to take a message from Fury's people today? His assistant just called to inform me I was supposed to have spoken to him two hours ago." Tony asked.

"I most certainly did not." she sounded affronted at the notion that she, Pepper Potts, could have missed a message.

"That's what I told them. I said if my assistant missed a message, then she's been replaced by a clone sent by a nefarious nemesis. An inferior clone who looks incredibly hot in those heels." and he would have, if the conversation had actually happened.

"Thank you. I think. Will that be all Mr. Stark?"

"I love it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Call me Mr. Stark. Makes me all hot and bothered."

"Good_bye_ Tony." she said, and her Blackberry beeped off.

Tony ran a quick trace. There. He found her; she was on a patio a couple of miles west.

"Sir, if I may, this is not an appriopriate use of the suit. Or particularly ethical behaviour. In fact, this is, for lack of a better term, creepy. Very creepy." Jarvis said in his long suffering tone as Tony swooped over the city, and stopped short roughly sixty stories above the restaurant.

Iron Man peered down at the diners. Peered down at two diners specifically,actually. One was Pepper. The other was a young fellow, early thirties. Tall, dark and handsome, if you like that sort of thing. Day old scruff on his face, and slightly mussed reddish hair, lent him an endearing air which women loved. Tony frowned inside his suit; he didn't trust this man.

"Thanks Jiminiy Cricket." he replied. "Now amplify their conversation please."

"Yes sir."

There was a couple of seconds of pure cacophony where he could hear everyone in the restaurant. It died away gradually, leaving only the voices of his assistant and her date.

"...wanted to be a doctor once, but realized how much internal parts I would be coming in contact with." Pepper said, and he could see her shudder. Probably thinking of the time she had to reach into his chest, Tony thought, and it gave him a strange sort of satisfaction.

"It's not so bad once you get used to it. But it does get dull." the fellow said. "I admit, sometimes, when I'm operating, I daydream that I'm speeding down a highway in a red Ferrari, wind blowing through my hair, and no end in sight. That's how I get through the day."

"Isn't that distracting?" Pepper asked, taking a bite out of her cobb salad.

"Not really. It's all routine. Patch here, cut there...I can't wait till I'm done Medical school for real though."

"Not even a real doctor." Tony scoffed above them.

"It must be stressful." his assistant said sympathetically, reaching out a hand to touch her date gently.

"I get by. " the medical student said and patted Pepper's hand. "It can be a pain in the ass sometimes, I have to admit."

"Yeah, thats what your mom said last night. Booyah." the flying man jeered.

"Well done Mr. Stark." Jarvis deadpanned.

"You, get a shot of his face and run a background check." Iron Man instructed. He waited five seconds for the computer to comply, then turned to fly back to his mansion. He'd seen enough for one evening.

* * *

"Mark Curry." Tony starts, aware he's on a suicide mission. He just couldn't hold it in a minute longer. It was eight-twenty-two the next morning, and damn if he could wait any longer.

Pepper snaps her head up, eyes narrowing.

"Mark Curry, medical student; The Intern among interns." he keeps going. "Saved countless lives in the five years he has been in residence. Is he registered at any medical school? No. Do we know what he was doing before 2003? One big, fat...No."

"What are you..."

"Pep, I say this because I care, but Mark Curry, in all probability, is not Mark Curry. Or a Doctor."

"Have you been spying on me?" Pepper sounds disbelieving. Sounds betrayed.

"Only because I cannot have you in any possible form of danger. Imagine the drowning kids I have to abandon to save you if some crazy scientist got his hands on you?"

Pepper quite literally flings her laptop off her, and stalks over to him. Her chest is heaving and her face is red, and Tony has never seen her so damned gorgeous before. He's thinking of ways to incite a repeat performance, when she pulls her arm back and delivers a stinging slap to the left side of his face.

He's not sure, but was it wrong that this turned him on? Just a little?

"I cannot believe..." she huffs. "Of all the low down..."

"Pepper, listen to me. I can't have you in danger. I can't be there all the time. People, bad people are going to want to hurt you, because of me. I can't deal with that." he says, taking her shoulders.

"It still doesn't give you the right!" she spits.

"No, I know that..."

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asks, trying to shrug out of his grasp. "Wait, no, what am I saying, you weren't thinking, you were..."

Whatever she thought he was doing, he'd never find out, because he chose that moment to think,

_Fuck it._

And kissed her. She's stunned into silence as his arms wrap around her, and his lips caress her's, seeking, always seeking.

"You're _my_ assistant dammit." he whispered roughly.

She makes a sound in her throat, but doesn't push him away.

"We can't do this," she sounds raw.

"We can. We have to." he tells her.

"I'm not one of your girls Tony..."

"Pepper, there's no one else." he pulls away to look her in the eye. "There's no Maxim model. No cute journalist. No socialite to take to the next gala. There's no one else except you. I know, you can probably do better. Find someone who isn't as fucked up, who doesn't feel the need to fly around in a suit and..."

This time, she's the one who cuts him off by kissing him. They sink onto floor.

* * *

  
He had often imagined her in bed; he was Tony Stark. Of course he did.

He had imagined her being graceful, and sweet; earnest and efficient. Imagines her hair hanging down like a curtain.

What really happens: They don't make it to the bedroom. They stay on the floor of his garage, sometimes getting poked at by his haphazardly strewn tools. It's fitting; after all, this is, who he is. Really. Her hair is loose and spreads out around her, tangled from his fingers. She moans, passionate noises escaping her lips beyond her control with each touch. She acts on instinct, molding her form to his instinctively, hands wandering and grasping him close. She fumbles once or twice, but nonetheless, its the best he's ever had.

* * *

Afterwards, as they lie on the couch, Pepper sighs.

"I slept with my boss."

"It doesn't have to be that complicated."

"Are you firing me?"

"Jesus Pepper."

"Because maybe you should. I've been very unprofessional here...with the sex and everything."

"If it means that much to you, I'll transfer you. You'll work in the Avenger department. I'll see you everyday, take you out for lunch, and take you home after." he says indulgently.

"And how will you survive without me?" she muses. "Assistants like me don't grow on trees."

"No." he says. "No, but we'll figure it out...ok?"

She says nothing and just looks at him.

* * *

It's not the best start. But its a start.


End file.
